Bowl Blues
by denise1
Summary: A silly little fic based on Jack and Bowl..a fun little pairing that popped up from the episode Beneath the Surface
1. Chapter 1

Sam carefully swirled the last bit of icing on the cake and sighed, stepping back to admire her work

Bowl Blues

By

Denise

Sam carefully swirled the last bit of icing on the cake and sighed, stepping back to admire her work. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. And they said she couldn't cook. Wouldn't Jack be surprised? What better way to celebrate their one-month anniversary of dating than with a nice dinner and some yummy cake for dessert? Or at least the first dessert. She had other plans for later, she thought, smiling mischievously at the look on Jack's face when he saw the little surprise she'd picked up at Vickey's Secrets this morning.

She dipped her finger into the bowl, scraping out the last little bit of icing and licking it from her finger. "Sam?" She heard Jack call as the front door slammed shut.

"In the kitchen," she said, hurriedly setting the bowl into the sink with the rest of the dishes and standing in front of the cake.

"Mmhm, something smells good," he said, walking into the room and over to her. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I don't think this is what Doc meant by resting."

"All I did was bake a cake. And anyway, she gave me the recipe," Sam said proudly. "It's really easy," she said, stepping away to show him her creation. "See all you do is bake a white cake and then when it cools you just mix up some Jell-o and pour it over it and…" She broke off in the middle of her explanation, frowning as his face went pale. "Jack? What's wrong?"

He pushed her aside, reaching out with trembling hands to pull the bowl from the sink. "You used it?"

"What?"

"You used the bowl," he accused.

"Well, I had to. There was the cake mix and the icing and…"

"It's blue," he said, staring in horror at the bowl in his hand. His lovely white bowl that was now a garish shade of blue, its sides smeared and stained. The dye had settled into tiny scratches in the plastic, highlighting them, making them more visible than ever before.

"It was blue Jell-o," she said. "I considered red but I thought that would look a little gory." She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face her. "Jack, it's just a bowl."

His face set and she took an instinctive step back, startled by the look in his eyes. "Don't ever say that," he ordered, pulling away from her. He pulled the other dishes out of the sink, quickly putting in the plug and running some hot soapy water. "It's ok, baby," he crooned, gently lowering the bowl into the water. "Daddy will take care of you. I won't let mean old Sam do this to you again." She stared as he gently scrubbed the plastic bowl, using the hem of his shirt to try and remove the dye from the scratches. "Do you think the oxyclean will hurt it?" he asked her, turning around, the bowl still clutched in his hand.

His arm hit her cake, knocking the newly frosted confection onto the floor with a loud and messy plop. She stared as his foot moved, kicking her cake and sending bits of it skittering across the floor. "Well?" he asked. "The oxyclean or should I try bleach? I don't want to hurt it."

Suddenly fed up, she tossed her spatula at him, taking no little amount of satisfaction when it plopped into the water, drenching him in soapsuds. "You know, Jack. You can't have your cake and eat it too," she said, turning on her heel. She grabbed her coat from the hall closet and stalked out the front door, taking great pleasure in slamming it hard enough to make the walls shake.

Jack watched her go, frowning a bit then shrugging. "Women," he muttered. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em," he muttered, holding bowl up to the light. "I know!" he cried. "Toothpaste." He hurried from the room, not noticing the cakey footprints he was leaving behind. "I'll have you sparkly white and minty fresh in no time."

Fin


	2. Reconciliation

Reconciliation

By

Denise

Jack rolled over, the dull poking in his ribs pulling him from his restless slumber. With a heavy sigh he reached out, his fumbling hand hitting Bowl and sending it skittering off the bed and onto the floor.

It was no use; no matter what he did, he still couldn't sleep.

Sam's last words echoed in his ears, haunting him in his sleep. She'd avoided him the last three days, once even calling upon Teal'c to kelnoreem in her lab just to keep him at bay.

Evidentially word of their little squabble had become fodder for the base's grapevine. Yesterday, Siler raised his wrench at him, Daniel refused to talk to him, Doc suddenly decided that he needed a COMPLETE physical – was it really normal protocol to require full length pictures?- and he swore that Davis deliberately tried to close the iris on him, nearly turning his six into a four.

Even Hammond had been noticeably colder, replacing his normal 'son' with 'bonehead'.

And to make matters worse, Bowl was a horrible bedmate. It just lay there, somehow managing to always poke him in the ribs, rolling off the pillow no matter how many times Jack placed it up, out of the way.

And it certainly did nothing for his cold feet.

If all of that wasn't enough to convince him he needed to make up with Sam, the news he'd received today certainly was. Jacob was coming. Jacob, her father, the general, the man with a snake in his head and a ribbon device he'd certainly be willing to use in new and creative ways…ways that it horrified Jack to even contemplate.

Sitting upright in the bed, he abandoned the idea of sleep, instead turning his mind to his newest quest, operation 'Sorry, Sam'.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Major Samantha Carter pulled her car into her driveway, casting a curious glance out the car window and at her front walk. What the hell?

She put the car into park and turned off the ignition, automatically grabbing her briefcase and purse. She got out, locking the vehicle and slowly made her way across the newly mown grass. Dozens of small plastic champagne flutes lined her sidewalk; each filled with something colorful. Reaching down, she picked one up, sniffing it cautiously. Strawberry Jell-o. They were all filled with different flavors of Jell-O.

Bemused, she walked up onto her porch, reaching for her keys.

She opened the front door and stopped in her tracks, staring in amazement at the sight that greeted her. The blinds were drawn, blocking the sunlight, but the room was far from dark, dozens of candles littered every horizontal surface, giving the room a warm glow and sweet vanilla scent.

She set down her stuff and walked into the living room, finding it the same way as the hall. She stepped on something and looked down, bending over to pick up a slightly crushed ruby red rose. She picked up rose after rose, following the scattered trail to the dining room. The table was set for two, more candles and a bowl of red roses decorating the center.

"Aah, there you are," Jack said, walking out from her small kitchen. "I called the base and they said you'd just left."

He crossed over to her, helping her take her jacket off and ushering her towards one of the chairs. "Jack, what are you doing here?" she asked. "And how did you get in? I took the key back."

He had the grace to blush a bit. "Special ops secret," he brushed her off. "Dinner's almost ready." He gently pushed her down onto the chair. "I hope you're hungry," he called over his shoulder.

She scooted her chair forward, automatically reaching for the napkin, laying the square of cloth across her lap. He'd dug through her cabinets and found her good china and table setting, the stuff she'd received years ago from her father, family heirlooms from his wedding. She picked up the bottle of wine, pouring a generous amount into each of the crystal goblets.

He came out of the kitchen, carrying two plates of salad, one of which he put in front of her with a flourish. He set down his plate and hurried back into the kitchen, returning with a small basket of bread.

Still not quite sure what was going on, but willing to play along, she took a bite of her salad, enjoying the crisp freshness and the garlic-laced flavor of the Caesar dressing. He didn't talk much, so she followed his lead, quietly finishing her salad. Once she was done, he got up and cleared the plates, returning in a few minutes with two steaming plates of lasagna. He started chatting about the weather and other trivial bits as they ate. She joined in, recognizing exactly what he was doing. Jack was never a big one on small talk, so she figured he was doing it for a reason…probably to put her off asking him exactly what he was doing here.

It didn't take them long to finish their dinner and he led her from the table, guiding her to the living room. Candles and roses adorned the coffee table, filling the air with a warm, heady scent. She sat on the couch, curling her legs under her. "Jack, what's going on?" she asked taking the refilled goblet of wine he handed to her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting on the other end of the couch.

"All this." She motioned to the flowers and candles. "Come on, Jack. If I look up 'romantic' in the dictionary, I will NOT see your picture."

He sighed and looked away, obviously gathering his thoughts. He scooted closer, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a small black velvet box. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said, holding the box out to her.

She took it, setting down her wine. She opened the box, casting him an odd look when she saw what was in the box. "I aah, I don't get it," she said, taking the silver necklace out of the box and holding it up to get a closer look. Dangling on the delicate chain was a small charm in the shape of a bowl.

"On the planet…that bowl saved our lives. It helped me remember who and what we were. It helped me get you back," he said softly, taking the necklace from her, his fingers fumbling with the catch. She leaned forward, letting him fasten it around her neck. "But you know, before I had Bowl, I had you," he said softly, kissing her gently on her lips.

She smiled gently, pulling away a bit and wrapping her arms around his neck. "So what else did you have planned for tonight, flyboy?" she asked, moving closer to him.

"I have some dessert…" he started, breaking off when she kissed him again. "But it's cake…it'll keep," he gasped out, leaning back and pulling her on top of him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sitting on the table, adorned with roses, Bowl smiled. It was about time, it thought, thinking of the lovely china cabinet in the corner. That would be a much better home than the man's grimy cabinet or silly bed.

And maybe, just maybe the lady would decide to cook with her again. It wondered if they made grape jell-o, Bowl knew that purple was its best color.

Fin


End file.
